


Miscellaneous Rigel Black Drabbles With A D.Gray-Man Flourish–or, the solution to every ADD author's problems is posting and hoping for the best.

by Alley_Walk (AlleyWalk_writes)



Category: D.Gray-man, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry/Rigel is not having a good time, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, Possession, Reincarnation, Rigel Black Chronicles Drabbles, That I may or may not finish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25181926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Alley_Walk
Summary: Basically what it says on the tin.For, a teaser, here's the first one...1. Stigmatized.Harry's magical core fully develops on her thirteenth birthday, along with a few...complications. These complications include, among other things:- a few changes in appearance that will make keeping up the ruse much harder.- concerned parents always asking after her health.- a certain whitehaired ghost that, unluckily for her, people can also see.And then there's Mr. Riddle, who's acting awfully strange lately.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Allen Walker, Harry Potter & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Miscellaneous Rigel Black Drabbles With A D.Gray-Man Flourish–or, the solution to every ADD author's problems is posting and hoping for the best.

Tom Riddle strode through his not immodest manor, his expression dark as a headache bloomed behind his eyes. Sparing a moment to rub his hand over his forehead, Tom went into the bathroom to look through the medicine cabinet for some Pain Reliever Potion. 

When his eyes set upon the man in the mirror, the face that peered back at him was not his own.

* * *

There was a hollow, aching emptiness.

A deep, all encompassing darkness stretched out all around her, a black void completely devoid of stars.

Then, there was a spark.

The spark took to the darkness like flame to dry wood, growing in size until it was a swirling inferno that swallowed up the darkness around her. A soft green light bloomed in the heart of the fire, nestling in its folds. And then from within the fire came a voice.

“I curse you! I  **c̱͑u̵̿͘r̝̋͋s̻̖̍e͓̟ͣ ͖̫͠y̛͓̍ȏ̺͗ù̴͝,̷̤́ ̞̄͌A̳̔ͤl̸͕͠l͕̼̿ë̺͔n͓̓͢!** ͔ͫͅ” 

Harry woke up with a horrible ache throughout her whole body. Her stomach burned with the heat of a thousand suns, and her head was ringing so loudly she felt like it was going to erupt like a badly made Amortentia Potion. She curled up into a ball as sweat soaked her frame, screaming in pain as her stomach burned and her muscles spasmed, her left arm in particular felt like it had been poisoned by the basilisk and that instead of using Fawkes’s tears to heal it they had dumped hypochlorous acid on it and called it a day. Her magic ran rampant around the room, priceless Potions journals shredded and torn from their bookshelves while her bed quaked underneath her, cracks spider webbing out through her bedroom walls. Her face ached, and she thought that she could hear someone apologizing, ghostly fingers rubbing circles against her back.

The door to her room slammed open, and her Mum and Dad ran into the room with wands raised. She felt a prickling of hostility from somewhere near the head of the bed.  _ Danger? _

Harry smiled humorlessly. Hallucinations weren’t really on her top list of priorities right now. It would have to wait. 

She could feel the irritation emanating off of her erstwhile hallucination nonetheless.

“Harry!” Dad exclaimed as the room shook around them, both of her parents reaching her bedside and crouching in front of it. Harry blinked stinging wetness out of her eyes. Was she crying? 

“Mum. Dad. It hurts. I think I might be dying.” That was the only explanation she could come up with for what was happening.

Dad gave a strained smile that did little to reassure her. “You’ll be just fine, little Fawn.”

Mum conjured a bowl of water and a towel and began dabbing at Harry’s face, Harry wincing, blood coming away on the towel. Her stomach burned in white hot intensity, her ears ringing. She might have screamed. She wasn’t sure. Through the blur in her vision she saw her Dad’s wand aimed towards her head. Then darkness.

* * *

Harry woke up to the sound of arguing. 

“–did this to her!” Dad’s angry voice proclaimed loudly. Harry tried not to wince. Her head still ached horribly.

“I’m sorry.” An unfamiliar voice said, and Harry took the opportunity in the silence that followed to carefully pry her eyes open. The lights were on as if it were daytime–had it really been that long since her Dad put her out?–and a lot of the damage from her rampaging magic had been fixed, though Harry thought mournfully of those torn up Potions periodicals, journals she had collected now completely gone to waste. 

Harry’s eyes fixed first on Andromeda Tonks, who looked at her with an imperiously raised eyebrow with her arms crossed, a small smile on her face. That made sense. Mrs. Tonks and her husband ran a Healing Clinic, after all. But the next person she saw wasn’t familiar at all. He had shoulder length white hair and clear blue eyes, with an angled scar on the left side of his face. He was dressed formally in a black half vest suit with a white shirt and black pants, wearing white gloves on his hands.

He looked to be about the age of a fifth year, or so. 

Just what was going on?

“Wait, James.” Mum said, with a hand on Dad’s arm. She looked at the whitehaired boy imploringly. “I’m sorry about my husband. We’re just worried about our daughter, and want to know what’s happened to her. There are only so many documented cases of this affliction… could you tell us what you know about what’s happening to Harry?”

“Affliction?” Harry interrupted, alarmed. She couldn’t have any sort of long-term disease, surely… Then, “Is this the same thing Archie was sick with?” It would be just like him to get her sick. They shared everything, after all. But if they did both have the same disease, then maybe the ruse hadn’t fallen through yet.

The whitehaired boy sent her a curious look, which Harry couldn’t interpret.

“Stigmatism.” Andromeda said. “The disease is characterized by either stigmas on the wrists, ankles or brow, changes in skin, eye or hair color, and,” Andromeda hesitated for a moment before saying, “A previously dead human soul trapped permanently inside of your magical core.”

Harry felt the color drain from her face as her eyes moved, inexorably, towards the boy standing a few feet away. He smiled at her sadly. “Hello. My name is Allen Walker.”

* * *

The man in the mirror before Tom was smartly dressed in a black suit and a top hat, broad shouldered and wide with deep brown skin and stigma across his forehead and slicked back black hair, with a strong jaw and weathered face that Tom supposed would look rather friendly if one didn’t bother to peer too closely into the man’s eyes. The man doffed his hat to Tom and gave him a wide smile. “Hello, Lord Riddle! If you’d be so inclined, I believe I have a most prospitious offer that would benefit both of us greatly.”

Something dangerously obsolete stirred in the back of Tom’s mind. The timeworn path met with out of date ideas, forming something new and sinister inside Tom Riddle’s mind. This new being looked out of Riddle’s eyes and cocked its head to the side, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”


End file.
